


Tu es Plus Tendre (et Bien Plus Tempéré)

by orphan_account



Series: French Porn [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Language Kink, M/M, Sexual Content, Shakespearean Sonnets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the tumblr prompt: </p><p>I need academy era where everyone always makes comments to Jim about him being a dumb hick and he only got into Starfleet because of his father but Bones knows better because at night when they are in bed and Jim is worshiping his body, the only way he can truly express his feelings to bones is by reciting Shakespearean sonnets to him, in French.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tu es Plus Tendre (et Bien Plus Tempéré)

_Why don’t you head back to the farm, asshole?_

_You wouldn’t even be here if you weren’t a Kirk._

_Do you think you’re worth something, now, Kirk? Because you’re not, you’ll always be a small town hick in a big city, nothing special._

_Did you_ cheat _for that score?_

Sometimes they’re just throwaway comments, other times they cut deep and they’re meant to. As if the speaker were holding a knife to Jim’s skin, making shallow nicks until the burning is worse the the lightheadedness bought on by blood loss. 

Jim’s always had this aura of worthlessness tacked to him, as if he came into this world automatically not good enough.  _Never_  good enough. It’s inevitable really, when you’re born in the wake of a hero’s sacrifice. 

"Don’t listen to that asshole, Jim," Bones says, taking Jim’s hand in his, linking their fingers. Bones’ warmth settles him; it’s Bones’ unwavering faith and loyalty and  _love_ , it seeps into him and he finds he can breathe again. He nods, squeezing. “Take me home,” he adds. 

Jim leads him over the quad, Bones murmuring encouragements and enticements and soon enough Jim is smiling again. All thoughts of hick and redneck abandoned, because Bones looks at him with those adoring hazel eyes, as if Jim holds up the sky. And he would, if he could, just for Bones. He would give him the stars and the sunshine and he would live out his life content. The axis of Bones’ Earth. 

Jim swipes his card and they enter upon seeing the little green light. They take the lift to the third floor, Bones pushing him to the corner of the elevator, hands on Jim’s hips.

"You’re too smart, kid," Bones murmurs against Jim’s throat. "Too damn smart for your own good."

"Bones." Jim whispers, setting his forehead against the doctor’s cheek until the elevator pings.

They just about make it to their room fully dressed. They’re ridiculously hands-y for two men who woke up to a languorous love making session at 0500, the sunrise just streaming in over Bones’ back as he thrust into Jim, hands tangled and hair sweat-stuck to their foreheads.

Jim wants it again.

He gets Bones lain back on the bed, the doctor tentatively stripping Jim of his layers. “So perfect,” he murmurs and Jim laughs gently. 

"You’re getting sentimental, Bonesy," Jim grins. 

Completely naked now, he leans across Bones, who’s shucking off his pants, to reach for the bottle of lube - always ready and waiting on the bedside table. 

Jim looks down at Bones, he’s still in a t-shirt, but Jim understands, they’ve only got an hour and ten before they need to be back in class. So Jim squeezes a glob of lube into his palm, rubbing them together to warm it. He wraps one fist around Bones, while reaching behind himself with the other, arching his back to get a good angle, opening himself up. Showing Bones he’s good enough. 

"Je vous veux,” he whispers, leaning forward so his lower lip ghosts over Bones’ stubble. Bones moans, the French kills him, maybe it make him think of all those old-world Georgian debutantes. Maybe it makes him think of Jim in stockings and a garter, trussed up all pretty with his big blue eyes framed by those long lashes. 

"Jim," he gasps when Jim finally straddles his hips, lining himself up with Bones before sinking down. Bones’ breath hitches and it pulls a smug smile from Jim’s lips. 

“Irai-je te comparer au jour d’été?” He starts, laying his body across Bones’, their heaving chests brushing together, sending shivers up Jim’s spine. He licks up the side of Bones’ throat, sucking a bruise into the skin where the racing  _thump, thump, thump,_ of his pulse is. 

“Tu es plus tendre et bien plus tempéré,” Jim continues and Bones whimpers, hips involuntarily bucking forward, thrusting deeper inside Jim. Jim straightens his back again to give them better leverage, Bones thrusts again and Jim moans. But it’s not too much for him to handle, just yet. “Des vents violents secouent les chers boutons de mai, et le bail de l’été est trop proche du terme.” 

“ _Damn_ , Jim,” Bones hisses, his hands fumbling against Jim’s back, fingers alternating between pressing in with the pads and clawing slightly with his nails. Bones doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing, it’s just blind need, with the sound of Jim’s playful recitation and the feel of him around the doctor’s cock. 

"Shh," Jim soothes, running his thumb over Bones’ cheek. "Parfois trop chaud est brillant l’oeil du ciel,” his voice hitches slightly over the ‘nt’ because Bones’ dexterous fingers are trailing down his ribs, raising the hair on Jim’s nape. “Souvent ternie sa complexion dorée, toute beauté parfois diminue de beauté,” he adds, not able to look away from Bones’ eyes.

"Beauté," Bones repeats, his accent not as precise as Jim’s but it makes the blonde’s stomach flutter, nonetheless. 

"Beauté," Jim agrees, mouth forming a surprised little ‘o’ when Bones grazes against his prostate. "Par hasard, ou abîmée au cours changeant de la nature; mais ne se flétrira ton éternel été.” 

"Jim, I’m-"

So close. Jim can feel it in the stutter of his hips, he sinks lower again and clenches tight, trying to steady Bones, holding his hips down to the mattress. 

“Ni perdra possession de ce beau que tu as, et ne se vantera la mort que tu erres parmi son ombre,” he whispers, he can’t help but let his head roll back as Bones lifts him up again, his knees quaking, thighs so tense. 

“Quand en rimes éternelles à travers temps tu grandiras,” Jim exhales, it’s shaky and he’s close, but he can do this, he can hold on. 

"So perfect," Bones murmurs, awestruck. Bones is so earnest it makes Jim’s heart leap. 

“Tant que les hommes respireront et tant que les yeux verront, aussi longtemps ceci vivra, ceci donnera vie à toi,” Jim sighs, hands splayed over Bones’ chest as he lifts himself up again. Bones seems to have regained a bit of control though because his hips are setting a rhythm - fast and relentless but constant - and Jim’s prostate is taking the most gorgeous battering. 

"Bones," he gasps, French accent still lingering on his tongue. 

"Jesus, Jim," Bones groans. Jim can feel the slide of Bones’ come inside him and it’s just velvety enough to coax out Jim’s own orgasm. 

"Fuck," he pants, edging off of Bones to lie beside him. 

"Too smart for your own good," Bones decides again. 

"Merci," Jim whispers, stupid grin plastered to his face and he lays his cheek over Bones’ pectoral muscle. 

"Tu amore," Bones scoffs. 

"That’s half Italian, Bones, it’s je t’aime,” Jim smirks. 

"Is it?" Bones counters, a small smirk of his own on his lips. Jim looks at him, assessing for a moment.

"Yeah," he nods, "yeah it is." 


End file.
